9
"LONG-RANGE GOOD HANDS"
IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING THE dedication ceremony, a twenty-four-hour police guard was stationed at Grant's Tomb, with one officer inside and another outside. While the grandstands were disassembled shortly after the ceremony (the New York Times noted the "big heaps of lumber with signs reading 'Grand Stand Seats, $1' and 'Let Us Have Peace' scattered among them"), the memorial arch stayed in place another month until Decoration Day. Less than two weeks later, on May 7, a tree was planted and a plaque erected near the site of the temporary tomb, both gifts from Chinese Viceroy Li Hung-Chang. The plaque reads in both English and Chinese:
THIS TREE IS PLANTED AT THE SIDE OF THE TOMB OF GENERAL U. S. GRANT, EX-PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, FOR THE PURPOSE OF COMMEMORATING HIS GREATNESS BY LI HUNG-CHANG, GUARDIAN OF THE PRINCE, GRAND SECRETARY OF STATE EARL OF THE FIRST ORDER, YANG YU ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY AND MINISTER PLENIPOTENTIARY OF CHINA, VICE PRESIDENT OF THE BOARD OF CENSORS' KWANG HSU 23RD YEAR, 4TH MOON, MAY 1897.
A year earlier, on August 30, 1896, Chinese ambassador Li Hung-Chang had visited the temporary tomb of "his old friend." The two had met while Grant was on his world tour almost a decade earlier, and Li had enlisted Grant to help China negotiate a treaty with Japan over the disputed Ryukyu Islands. Li arrived in a carriage and stepped into a ceremonial "chair of state." Four "husky, blushing," and very unhappy Irish policemen then hoisted the sedan chair and carried the Chinese dignitary on their shoulders up about a dozen steps. At the tomb entrance, the burly officers set down the chair. Slowly, Li stepped out and bowed his head in reverence. Horace Porter stood waiting at the tomb to greet him. The Chinese statesman told Porter that Grant's Tomb was one of the foremost places he hoped to visit while in America. Li stepped inside and was pleased to see the garland of bay leaves and orchids he had sent as a gift in advance of his arrival. Li was very curious about the temporary tomb and the permanent one that was nearing completion nearby. How was it paid for? Who guarded it? How would it be maintained? asked the inquisitive guest. After several minutes, Li exited and bowed deeply before the hushed crowd of twenty thousand.
The tomb won critical accolades for its architectural prowess. It became a point of pride for New Yorkers and created a powerful sense of place for the Civil War generation. Three decades since the end of hostilities, during which time many other memorials to the Civil War had been erected, Grant's Tomb held a special place in the American consciousness. A reporter for the Critic claimed, "It is to be our one great memorial of the struggle for union; a monument not only to the foremost of our generals, but to the cause of 'liberty and union' and, in a sense, to all who fought and died for that sentiment." For many Americans, particularly Civil War veterans, a visit to Grant's Tomb came to resemble a religious pilgrimage.
While much was made of the Grant Monument Association turning the tomb over to the city of New York at the dedication ceremony on April 27, the truth was that nothing had changed. It remained under the auspices of the association, and for the next few months they continued to pay for maintenance. In November, a legislative act passed with the lengthy title of "An act to authorize the board of commissioners of the Department of Public Parks of the City of New York to Enter into a Contract with the Grant Monument Association for the care and preservation of the tomb of General Grant at Riverside Park." The bill allocated $7,000 annually, for eleven years, to the Grant Monument Association to cover maintenance costs. Shortly after the dedication, the building began to leak, and the problem continued to get worse over the years. Each storm seemed to bring new streams raining down from the dome above. The leaks were left unattended for so long that minute stalactites began to form, similar to those that develop, like stone icicles, over thousands of years in subterranean spaces. Fears arose that the ornamental plasterwork would one day break loose and crash to the ground. In early 1905, the granite was sealed with wax and the tomb was optimistically declared "waterproof." The maintenance contract was renewed in 1908, this time for twenty-one years. However, though costs continued to rise, the allocation did not. In fact, the $7,000 per year allocation remained in effect until the 1950s.
With the tomb now open to the public, George D. Burnside was retained on staff as the first curator, a position he held until 1940. He took the role seriously, dressing in a Civil War uniform that had been provided by Brooks Brothers. Another long-timer, John Buckner, who was hired in 1897 to keep the tomb clean, remained on the job as janitor for the next twenty-five years. The workers maintained a strict decorum at the sacred location. A sign reading REMOVE YOUR HAT was posted during the peak years, and most guests adhered to the request and spoke only in a hushed whisper. Buckner even suggested that the tomb held a redeeming power, recalling that one visitor who had been drinking and had staggered up the steps "straightened up like a man" and removed his hat as soon as he entered the sacred space.
The area that was once seen as a no-man's-land had become a bustling tourist attraction. Visitors arrived in droves by elevated train cars, carriages, boat, bicycle, and on foot. The day after the 1897 dedication, about 13,000 people visited the tomb, many undoubtedly picking up souvenirs left by the previous day's raucous crowd. By the time the year drew to a close, 560,000 people had stopped by the tomb since its dedication just over eight months earlier. Its only rival was the Statue of Liberty; the two sites emerged as top attractions in the city, vying for tourists' attention and their patriotic affection. But in the battle of the attendance counts, Grant was once again victorious. Sundays were the busiest day. Grant's Tomb was also a popular destination for bicycle riders, known as "wheel-men." The sport had taken off in New York in the late 1800s, and one newspaper reported, "Young people made up parties, properly chaperoned, to ride up through the park and along Riverside Drive to Grant's Tomb." While attempts were made to prohibit riders from Riverside Park, champions of the sport prevailed, and eventually bicycle racks were built near the tomb. For the remainder of the century attendance remained strong, averaging about a half million visitors a year.
Into the early years of the new century, the site was generally tranquil and the crowd law-abiding. Of course, there were exceptions, and Porter complained that "an unruly class sometimes enter who refuse to remove their hats, insist upon smoking their cigars and using offensive language." In addition, occasionally loiterers gathered by the entrance in the summer, and the more indolent among them were brazen enough to lie down on the front steps. At night, children roller-skated on the monument grounds, and some young vandals marked the tomb in charcoal. Clearly, some of the reverent luster of the earliest years had dulled, and the tomb's meaning was becoming diluted to some. The twenty-four-hour guards who once protected the tomb were withdrawn shortly after the dedication. Yet the plague of relic hunters continued. They now set their sights—and chisels—on the monument itself, chipping slivers of stone as souvenirs. Eventually, in 1909, veterans from the Grand Army of the Republic appealed to the New York police commissioner to express their concerns, and three guards were temporarily stationed at the tomb.
But while there were few reports of actual vandalism or disturbances in these early years, traffic was the more prevalent danger. Automobiles debuted in New York a year before the tomb was completed, and on May 24, 1899, a parade of "eighty horseless conveyances" rode from Madison Square Garden to Grant's Tomb in an event sponsored by delegates of the National Electric Light Association. By the early years of the new century, the proliferation of automobiles had outpaced traffic laws, proving a hazardous combination. The unlit area around the tomb was deemed "a veritable death trap."
On December 14, 1902, at the age of seventy-six, Julia passed away in Washington, DC, from heart and kidney failure. Over the years, she had largely remained out of the affairs of the Grant Monument Association and the construction of Grant's—and her— tomb, interjecting her opinions only sparingly. A funeral was held on December 20 at the Metropolitan Methodist Episcopalian Church in Washington, DC, before "a notable assemblage," including President Theodore Roosevelt. After the ceremony, her remains were transported by funeral train to New York. The next day, December 21, as a cold rain fell, the coffin was transferred to Riverside Park. For the first time ever, electric lights brightened the inside as a derrick lifted the lid from the sarcophagus and her coffin was placed within. Members of the Grant Monument Association were joined by a detachment from the ever-loyal U. S. Grant Post from Brooklyn. Julia's interment was a reminder to all as to why New York was selected in the first place. While some still grumbled that Grant should have been buried in Arlington National Cemetery or at West Point, New York City had been chosen so the two could rest side by side for all eternity. After her death, Fred donated thousands of letters to the association that had been sent to Grant when he was ill and to the family after he died. Many were put on display inside the tomb in the rear trophy rooms.
Grant's Tomb remained an important location to express the sentiment of reunification. The spirit of harmony that had prevailed during the funeral and dedication helped perpetuate comradery between the former enemies. At the 1885 funeral, members of the U. S. Grant Post from Brooklyn first fraternized with Confederate veterans. On Decoration Day in 1890, about fifty Confederate veterans who now resided in New York first joined Union soldiers at the Grant's Tomb remembrance. While some celebrated the spirit of unity, others criticized the U. S. Grant Post for having "a warm corner by its campfire for the old Johnny Rebs." General James McLear warned that "The danger is in overdoing the matter of brotherly love, as it is sometimes called. We must take care that we do not underestimate the services and sacrifices made to save the Union. There was a right and wrong side to the war." Put simply, McLear declared, "We of the North were right and the South wrong."
But the desire for peace and forgiveness was strong, and Grant's Tomb retained its aura of reconciliation, especially on Decoration Day, when both sides remembered their fallen comrades. At the 1902 remembrance, Confederate veteran Judge Thomas Jones spoke before a crowd of five thousand:
When but a beardless youth I drank, of the cup of defeat at Appomattox and was one of those who was "allowed to return to his home, not to be disturbed by the United States authorities, so long as they observed their parole and the laws in force where they resided." From that day to this there has never been an hour when I would willingly omit an opportunity to do honor to the memory of the immortal who forbore to add to the burden of our sorrows. No true soldier can deny to the illustrious man whose mortal remains lie here, the possession of all the qualities of a great commander.
Three years later, members of the U. S. Grant Post from Brooklyn voted unanimously to invite Confederate veterans to the 1905 Memorial Day ceremony at Grant's Tomb.